


Kicked

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, During Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-13
Updated: 2007-07-13
Packaged: 2018-09-03 09:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8707153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Something about kicking open a door was fundamental, simple, Sam's own little picture show.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

  
Author's notes: Written for sammyndeansgrl! Hope you like it! Does anyone have a particular, regular thing the boys do that inspires something in you? One that you want me to write about?  


* * *

Sam tensed slightly in anticipation as he watched his older brother examine the door.

 

There was a slight anger in that look, like he was mad at the door for not opening for him.

 

A smugness that just reeked satisfaction, him knowing that he was about to kick it open. Just. Like. That. Overpower it easily, some kind of power rush such a simple act inspired.

 

For both of the brothers.

 

Dean would position himself, face set in a determined look mingling with the other emotions. That look of knowing he was going to do it, or the fucking door would be in splinters, one way or another.

 

Sent a shiver down Sam's spine, that coiled power that was released for the single moment.

 

Dean would square his shoulders, tilting them to the side. 

 

Hands were usually alert at his sides, clenching in an unsteady rhythm.

 

Or pulled up, wrapping Dean up safe.

 

Sam would see those hips twist, watch as if in slow motion as the leg pulled back, muscles straining.

 

Veiled power.

 

Then he would unleash it, let go of his rein for that little moment to do that single task.

 

His shirt would ride up just so, flashing an inch of lightly tanned skin.

 

Eyes would be smoldering as he forced open the door, even more so when he prepared to go in to face the Demon or whatever the hell they were hunting at the time.

 

Sam would stand by in wonder as he saw a glimpse of that hidden part of his brother.

 

Of that power and knowledge, fundamental and primal.

 

And he would have to stare captivated, because an act such as that was his own little picture show.


End file.
